The clock of life is wound but once,
And no man has the power
To tell just when the hands will stop,
At late or early hour.
To lose ones wealth is sad indeed,
To lose ones health is more.
To lose ones soul is such a loss,
That no man can restore.
The present only is our own,
So Live, Love, toil with a will --
Place no faith in 'Tomorrow' --
For the clock may then be still.
Robert H. Smith
1932
